It is not the pulse of the oars
dragging into deep and
shattering still
to stir.
It is not the slide that brings you forward and back, like the steps in life that often advance and retreat,
and, at times, slip out from under you.
It is meeting the impact, daring the challenge, creating conflict in glassy surface lying still in complacency of night to burst open the promise of a sunrise.
It is finding the rhythm, the balance, the bravery to escape the grip of tousled sheets that comfort and tease you to linger in their caress.
It is daring to rise again and again grasping oars boldly, confidently, fully.
It is embracing the journey of renewal and discovery every day, every moment, every breath.
It is the row.